


Decent

by becausenobreeches (crucibulis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: I don't know how to tag this, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, or what to title it either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:39:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crucibulis/pseuds/becausenobreeches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And if things continue to… progress the way they’re progressing, well, I think it’s very likely the two of us might find ourselves in bed together.”</p><p>Dorian couldn’t help but waggle his eyebrows just a little at that. Just a single waggle, no need to be excessively boastful about it. “I have to admit that is a possibility that crossed my mind,” he said with a smirk which Maxwell only barely returned. </p><p>Instead the other mage just chewed on his lip, as if fighting not to look afraid. “Before that happens, though… there’s something I need to warn you about,” he winced adorably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decent

Dorian snuck a glance as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, taking note of the usually confident and charming Maxwell’s downcast eyes, which sparkled in the firelight as they stared at his food, or maybe his and Dorian’s feet which were touching below the couch. “Mm. It was all delicious,” he said to fill the silence, which threatened to turn awkward. Which was saying something for him and Max.

Maxwell looked up and smiled at him, gentle and full of hope. “I’m glad you like it,” he replied. “I’ll be sure to send the cooks your compliments.”

“Please do,” Dorian agreed, but then set the empty plate down on the floor beside him. “I’m curious though, what it was you wanted to speak with me about. I’ve been on pins and needles all day,” he complained playfully.

Maxwell breathed a laugh. “And here I wanted to put it off ‘til the very last,” he said sheepishly. “Very well.” He bent down to put his own plate on the floor and picked up his glass of wine, taking quite a generous sip of it before he swallowed and looked at Dorian with determined eyes.

Dorian did his best to look interested but not worried. It was true that he had been on pins and needles all day, fretting over what this was about. The most likely conclusion of course, was that Maxwell had finally come to his senses, and realized that carrying on with a Tevinter mage was an incredibly bad idea. But Maxwell didn’t need to feed him to tell him that, surely. Dorian was just going to have to wait for Maxwell to get to the end of whatever breathing exercise he seemed to be doing to calm himself, so he could find out the truth.

“We’ve… grown quite close you and I,” Maxwell finally began, shoulders hunching a little in a way that made him look less like the strapping Inquisitor and more like an Inquisitee. “And I do want to get to know you better, as I said.” Well that wasn’t quite a call for a sigh of relief, but at least Dorian could exhale. Now to see if the next sentence began with ‘and’ or _‘but’..._

“And if things continue to… progress the way they’re progressing, well I think it’s very likely the two of us might find ourselves in bed together.”

Dorian couldn’t help but waggle his eyebrows just a little at that. Just a single waggle, no need to be excessively boastful about it. “I have to admit... that is a possibility that crossed my mind,” he said with a smirk which Maxwell only barely returned.

Instead the other mage just chewed on his lip, as if fighting not to look afraid. “Before that happens, though… there’s something I need to warn you about,” he winced adorably.

“Oh?” Dorian replied, trying to keep his voice as neutral as he could. He could, of course, make some guesses to save Maxwell from having to say it, but that would probably not help matters.

Dorian had learned a while ago that it was easy to talk over Maxwell. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it until he watched the Inquisitor speak with other people and get interrupted in the middle of too many thoughts. It was better to just sit quietly and watch Max fidget with his hands while he found the right words, channeling his concentration into the wine glass in his lap like it was some sort of magical focus object, the red liquid oscillating with each slight movement. As difficult as that was for Dorian to do, it was always worth it in the end. Maxwell always did have the most witty and fascinating things to say.

“It’s not a grave matter…” Maxwell explained at last. “It’s just… in the past I’ve received some quite unsavory reactions. So I figured if you were going to be put off, I’d rather it be before. And not… _during.”_

“I see,” Dorian nodded. “Well… I’m sure whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

Another long silence, Maxwell rolling his lips together until they were red and entirely too kissable for this conversation. Probably. “I’m a crier,” he admitted at last, voice cracking just the tiniest bit.

Dorian blinked a few times, before deciding Maxwell should elaborate. “Beg pardon?”

“I cry,” he repeated, eyes dragging over to the fireplace. “After I… _finish_ , I get quite emotional. Every time.”

“Every time?” Dorian repeated, trying to seem engaged in the conversation without being overly invested.

“Yes. Even if I’m… by myself,” Maxwell managed. “Even if the other person has only used their hands. I always cry. After.”

Well.

Dorian would vehemently deny that a little heat was rising in his cheeks, at the thought of the mighty, fearless, broad-shouldered Inquisitor reduced to a crying mess after… sex. Not even sex, just… orgasm. He brought a hand up to one of said cheeks, pressing against the warmed skin as he watched Maxwell fidget under his gaze.

“So,” Dorian finally said. “My first question is, _is that all?”_

Maxwell snorted nervously. “Yes? That’s all?”

“Alright.” Dorian pulled his hand down to massage at his own jaw, trying to ease the tension that had been settling there all day. “My second question is… so are we talking, loud, dramatic wailing type of crying?” he asked carefully. “Or gross sobbing? Or just… the welling up of tears and a bit of a sniffle--” He cut that question short, clicked his mouth shut. Opened it again, closed it again, and started over. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?”

“Well the more I’ve enjoyed myself, the worse it is,” Maxwell shrugged helplessly.

“Oh, so I should take it as a _compliment!”_

“Yes, definitely,” Maxwell rewarded him with a proper smile at last, looking immensely relieved. “But it’s more like the latter that you described. Never more than a four, I’d say.”

Dorian shrugged with only one shoulder, lifting his glass of wine closer to his mouth. “Well I think that’s manageable,” he said, took a sip, swallowed. “Is there anything that can be done to avoid it?”

“No… not that I’ve found anyway,” Maxwell answered, back to looking bashful. “It’s really quite beyond my control.”

“I see. And is there something I should do to…” Dorian gestured with the hand that wasn’t holding his wine. “Help you through it, so to speak?”

“Just not… running for the hills would be more than enough, really,” Maxwell insisted with those irresistible calf eyes of his.

“Well,” Dorian scoffed. “We’re at quite a steep elevation, so running for the hills would not be an option,” he teased, and Maker but the Inquisitor looked adorable when he was embarrassed, squinting so he was only really looking at Dorian through one eye. One could almost forget that he killed people, practically for a living. “But isn’t there anything I could do?” he asked with sincere concern. “Perhaps just give you a good cuddle and say some reassuring things?”

Maxwell thought this over for a moment before daring to nod his head. “That would be nice. Yes,” he admitted, looking tense like he were sure Dorian were going to refuse, even though he had just _offered_.

Dorian snickered at this and lifted both his shoulders this time, attempting a reassuring motion. “Alright,” he conceded brightly, and immediately the tension retreated from Maxwell’s features and he drooped his head down, snickering himself with that laughter that rushes in after the withdrawal of panic.

“Oh, I’m so relieved!” he sighed, and Dorian took the opportunity to put his wine glass back down on the floor and put a hand on Maxwell’s knee.

Maxwell stilled from his fidgeting and looked up at him, watching with wonder as Dorian leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his temple, eyes so vulnerable it broke Dorian’s heart a little.

“Were you planning on something happening tonight?” he murmured.

A small, content sigh from Maxwell. “No, not -- not really,” he answered softly. “I wanted to give you the chance to say it was fine to my face and then never talk to me again, if that was what you were going to do.”

Dorian frowned; he massaged at Maxwell’s knee a little. “Did your former partners really treat you that badly because of it? Or do you just have that abysmal an opinion of me?” he teased half-heartedly.

“Oh, no it’s not you,” Maxwell insisted, shaking his head. “I’ve had a myriad of responses -- I mean, not that I’ve been with a myriad of people,” he quickly clarified, to Dorian’s amusement. “But none of them were… kind,” he said. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

Dorian closed his eyes to keep from rolling them. _“Please_ do not thank me for doing what is only decent,” he groaned. “That’s is just... _so sad,”_ he remarked in a sort of sympathetic disgust. “I’m really only doing the minimum required, which is not being an arse about it,” he told Maxwell. “Everyone has their sexual idiosyncrasies, you know. It could be worse. _Much_ worse.”

Maxwell licked his rosy red lips and then they parted, ever so sexily as something occurred to him. “So… that means you have them, too,” he pointed out, grinning as he leaned into Dorian’s shoulder, warm against his side.

“Of course not,” Dorian protested with a hand over his heart, but the sparkle in Maxwell’s eyes said he didn’t buy that at all. Dorian dropped the facade, giving Max a warm smile, as he let his eyes drop down to appreciate the other mage’s form for a fleeting moment, before gazing into his eyes, heavy-lidded. “Well,” he said as a means of surrender.  “You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble about a headcanon of mine but it's too long to be a drabble so it has to go here XD  
> I am at becausenobreeches.tumblr.com


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